Desperate Measures(53)
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Huh. That’s convenient. But what if the bad guy knows about this feature?”
“He won’t know if you did the good code or the distress code, regardless. Unless you tell him of course, which we would never do.”
“Of course. Let’s just pray we never have to use that one.”
“Yes. Let’s,” agreed Kiki, shutting and locking the door behind them.
Fifteen minutes later they were pulling up to Aimee’s old house, very happy to see the driveway empty.
“Good. Jack’s not here.”
They walked up to the front door and Aimee dug in her bag for her key.
Kiki tried the handle and the door opened on its own. “Not locked,” she said, searching Aimee’s face for her reaction. She saw fear.
They walked cautiously into the foyer, Kiki looking left and right to try and figure out if they were alone. There were no obvious signs of someone else being there. There was no broken glass, and no sounds other than their own footsteps reached their ears.
“I think maybe I forgot to lock it last time,” said Aimee, sheepishly.
“Okay, good. I was a little worried for a second there. So what’s first? Kitchen?”
“Yes. That’s the only place I need to pack anything, actually. Everything else is already at your townhouse.”
“You didn’t have a lot of stuff.”
“No. Jack took almost everything and I was never much of a clothes maven. Jack gave me an allowance, but it didn’t go far.”
Kiki looked at her, disgusted with the whole idea. “An allowance? Are you friggin’ kidding me?”
Aimee frowned and shook her head. “Nope. Pitiful, isn’t it?”
“Ridiculous is more like it. Come on,” she nudged Aimee’s shoulder, “let’s get you the hell out of this shit hole.”
They went to the kitchen and Aimee took over. She directed the packing of her precious culinary tools like a drill sergeant. Kiki was happy to follow her orders, glad to see that Jack hadn’t managed to completely eat all of her soul. That’s what he was, as far as she was concerned – a soul eater.
Kiki’s back was to the front hall, so she didn’t see anyone coming in. But when she looked up to ask Aimee which thermometers she wanted Kiki to include in the box she was packing, Aimee’s expression told her everything she needed to know.
Kiki swung around and found herself face to face with a guy - a short, angry guy, who couldn’t be anyone other than Jack.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?” he said, gritting his teeth together, his face glowing red.
Oh, shit. This isn’t good. She’d been around mean drunks before at work, but at least she had a bit of an advantage there with their slowed reflexes and sloppy coordination. This guy was sober and fueled only by rage. Kiki risked a glance toward her purse and saw that it was near the front door, and of totally no use to her right now. Jack was between her and her gun.
“Jack!” squeaked Aimee. “What are you doing here?”
“I think a better question would be what the hell is she doing here?” He looked over at Kiki and said, “Get the hell out of my house before I call the police.”
That got Kiki’s back up immediately, but she knew she had to be smart, or this guy was going to go ballistic. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” She glanced over at Aimee and said, “I guess I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Aimee looked stricken. Her mouth opened and shut, but she said nothing.
Kiki turned her back and made her way down the hall, praying Jack wouldn’t follow her. She needn’t have worried, as he was too intent on meting out punishment to Aimee.
Kiki reached down when she got near the front door and grabbed her purse, shoving her hand inside and closing her fingers around the cold, wood and steel handle of the gun. She yanked it out, dropping the bag on the ground and striding back toward the kitchen. She got there just before Jack had made it around the kitchen island, obviously in pursuit of a very sad and scared-looking Aimee.
“Stop right there, before I decide to be a hero,” said Kiki, lifting the gun and aiming for Jack’s chest. She kept her finger off the trigger because she could feel her heart racing a mile a minute and she didn’t trust her finger not to accidentally pull back in a spasm of gut-wrenching fear.
Jack stopped in his tracks, staring at Kiki in disbelief. “What the ... is that a gun?”